


we could form an attachment

by civillove



Category: Glee
Genre: Angst, Fake Dating, M/M, seblaine gift exchange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-12 00:15:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29376249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/civillove/pseuds/civillove
Summary: One accidental comment at dinner with Sebastian's father has Sebastian scrambling to create a fake relationship. And who better to be a fake boyfriend than Blaine Anderson?--Sebastian is used to (and more than capable of) handling things on his own. He prides himself on that sort of thing. There are so many people out there that need someone all the time to run things by, to take small steps or big ones, that can’t manage the possibility of going at something alone. A small voice in the back of his head will tell him that the reason he works with being solitary so well is because no one cares about him, not really. His parents barely acknowledge his existence and his friends are busy. And well, it’s a little bit more than that—isn’t it? Sebastian won’t allow anyone close enough to really see him, to help him with any problems he might have. It’s foolish to put so much trust in someone when you’re not sure if they’ll be around all the time.
Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Sebastian Smythe
Comments: 60
Kudos: 116





	1. An arrangement

**Author's Note:**

> notes: for @longinghestia on tumblr for the @seblainegiftexchange *u* (some of her requests were: fake dating, domesticity and a little angst).   
> notes 2: this is somewhere in canon but obviously canon divergence, as in, Blaine returns to Dalton for his senior year.   
> notes 3: the title comes directly from the Bridgeton song of the same title, and while i was listening to instrumental music as i wrote this, it seemed too much of a good coincidence to pass up

**Chapter 1: An arrangement**

Sebastian is used to (and more than capable of) handling things on his own. He prides himself on that sort of thing. There are so many people out there that need someone all the time to run things by, to take small steps or big ones, that can’t manage the possibility of going at something alone. A small voice in the back of his head will tell him that the reason he works with being solitary so well is because no one cares about him, not really. His parents barely acknowledge his existence and his friends are busy. And well, it’s a little bit _more_ than that—isn’t it? Sebastian won’t allow anyone _close_ enough to really see him, to help him with any problems he might have. It’s foolish to put so much trust in someone when you’re not sure if they’ll be around all the time.

So Sebastian endures and he’s been just fine up until now, hasn’t he?

He thinks a lot about not ending up like his father—someone who’s cold, calculated, not entirely forthcoming with emotions or love. The elder Smythe doesn’t have decent relationships with anyone, let alone himself. Sebastian wants so _desperately_ not to be a carbon copy of that, to find a job and boy he loves and get as far away from destiny as his legs can take him. And yet, he’s stuck in this double-edged concept where he’s convinced that he doesn’t need anyone because at least Sebastian doesn’t let himself down.

He’s made mistakes, he’s fucked up, he’s wished he could take things back but Sebastian’s gotten himself through it. He’s crawled up and out of the mud and has come out the other side— _on his own,_ not everyone can say that they’re so lucky.

Sebastian doesn’t want or need someone to rescue him.

Until he does.

\--

“You’re not serious.” Sebastian says, putting down his spoon so he can concentrate on his father across the table from him. His mother’s shoulders tense, like she’s ready for an argument that she won’t be able to put the lid back on but Sebastian doesn’t care.

He’s tired of sitting at this table every night of dinners he’s forced to attend walking on eggshells.

“Look at my face and tell me if you think I’m serious,” Richard Smythe replies, calm as a fog settling in the morning. His eyes are the same color as that mist, a gray, which is how Sebastian knows he takes more after his mother—her own irises a sea foam green.

“You’ve put off conversations about your future long enough—you’re about to be headed off to college, Sebastian, you need to have plans in place.”

_Your plans,_ Sebastian bites his tongue, looking down at his soup. He’s suddenly not hungry anymore and he still has to sit through the main course and dessert.

“This New Year’s party I am hosting for my lawfirm is the perfect opportunity for you to make connections that you’ll need for later networking.” He smiles but it feels like something cold slithering down Sebastian’s chest, like ice, or a blade. “Not to mention the men I work with have _plenty_ of beautiful daughters for you to meet.”

Sebastian feels his fingers curl into his palms, nails biting along the skin. He finally just gave up on talking to his father about his sexuality because he doesn’t listen. His mother, while she gives him the space to talk, doesn’t absorb. It’s easier for her to play victim to his father and Sebastian doesn’t blame her, not in the slightest. He thinks, sometimes, that if he was married to someone like Richard Smythe he’d just play dead too. Unbothered, comatose…but comfortable. Not happy, at any rate, but those are the types of trade-offs Sebastian thinks he’d have to make.

Sebastian knows he’d be able to live with his father pushing his work lifestyle off on him—it’s not exactly what he wants to do but he’d get over that. He’d be a _great_ lawyer, he knows that, and eventually owning his father’s law firm would be a pretty penny and accomplishment.

But he draws the line at the ‘straight’ card. He’s not accepting that fate just because his father won’t accept _him._

“Unless those daughters have dicks, I’m not interested.” And yes, he’s being purposefully crude because he feels like that’s the only way to get one up on his father—to get him to make a reaction that isn’t altogether deliberate.

The color drains from Richard’s face for a moment before he adapts, slamming his fist down on the dining room table and making the expensive china shake, “Sebastian Smythe, _enough._ We’ve tolerated your… _whims_ far too much in this house.”

His mother sighs and closes her eyes because it’s simpler for her to pretend nothing is happening if she does that, to get through it.

“This party is the beginning of something new for you, we’re done with conversations like this. Do you understand me?”

Sebastian understands him perfectly well, bile bubbling up his throat and threatening to make him lose what little dinner he’s eaten. And maybe that’s what makes him say it, this overwhelming sensation to knock his father once again off balance—

“I have a boyfriend.” He snaps out and that…sits in the air for a moment.

His mother’s eyes go wide and yet there’s something else as well. Curiosity, maybe, or amusement. Sebastian’s not sure.

There’s no turning back now and he clears his throat, straightening himself up against the uncomfortable dining room chair, “And he’s the only one I’ll be entertaining at any party.”

Richard leans back in his chair, very slowly, watching his son. There’s something different about his gaze—a challenge, perhaps, a chance at victory. He’s seen his father behave this way when he’s presented with a case he knows he can’t lose. Sebastian keeps his gaze steady and calm, refusing to back down now that he’s started this whole thing.

“A boyfriend,” His father repeats, “You’ve never spoken about this before.”

Sebastian recognizes the manipulating whiplash and refuses to let him get the better of this conversation, “Well, neither of you are very interested in my personal life. Why would I bring him up?”

Richard hums, smirking a little as he wipes his face with a napkin and sets it down on the table. There’s a silence that seems to completely overtake the room, nearly snuffs out the fire in the fireplace nearby. Sebastian schools his expression and keeps his nerves to the lower half of his body where his father can’t see, his foot tapping against the carpet.

His father is well aware that Sebastian has no boyfriend to speak of—that his connections with men only happen one place and it’s at Scandals, has seen him stumble back into the house or has heard him sneak through his bedroom window at two and three in the morning.

This is why Richard feels as if he’s already won when he says, “I see. Well, you must bring him to this party then,” He smiles a little, “I’d love to meet him.”

Sebastian looks down at his soup that’s gotten cold but forces himself to eat it, as if everything is normal, as if he has nothing to worry about. He knows what’s going to happen if he shows up to this party alone or someone who is quite clearly just his friend—his father will practically start courting him around the room, whoring him out to wealthy business partner’s daughters.

It’s not only that—Richard Smythe will have won. And Sebastian can _not_ allow that to happen.

His mother clears her throat, speaking for the first time since they’ve sat down at the dining room table for dinner, “What’s your boyfriend’s name, Sebastian?”

Sebastian’s walls come tumbling down and he says the first name that settles on his tongue, the only name that seems to constantly be on the back of his mind. The only name that has mattered to him in a long time.

\--

“Have you seen Blaine?” Sebastian asks one of the Warblers, Cole, who’s studying in the café.

Cole looks up and nods briefly, motioning over his shoulder, “Yeah, he’s in the courtyard.”

Sebastian blinks, shaking his head before he thanks him and starts walking towards the café counter to order two medium drips. Blaine is the only person he knows that would spend time in the courtyard despite the fact that it’s fifty degrees; the boy loves his cold weather. He remembers that briefly from their very long talks on the phone before everything got so fucked up.

Speaking of _that,_ he hasn’t really spoken to Blaine since he started back at Dalton. He’s heard rumors and conversations that contain half-truths about his and Kurt’s messy breakup, about not really fitting at McKinley anymore even though his friends wanted him to stay, how well he’s settling back into Dalton and the Warblers. That’s because, as Sebastian knows, Blaine’s always belonged here. Not just because he’s talented and smart but because this place doesn’t ask anything of him, doesn’t want him to trade pieces of himself just to belong.

He can simply just _be_ here and despite everything that has happened, Sebastian wants that for Blaine—more than anything.

But as for their friendship? Well…it’s pretty much disintegrated along with the rock salt slushie he aimed at his ex. Blaine’s forgiven him, accepted his apology but…that doesn’t mean they’re friends. Not by a long shot.

God, what has he gotten himself into?

Sebastian makes his way out into the courtyard, scanning the large grassy area for Blaine. He eventually finds him at a table nearby, pouring over a few books. Dalton has put a few giant heat lamps outside for people to sit near, if they really want to, but not many make that decision in the fall and winter.

Of course Blaine does.

Sebastian doesn’t consider himself as someone who gets nervous when talking to guys and he knows Blaine, knows him better than the shorter probably wishes he did. He’s always had it fairly easy with getting things that he wants, a well-placed touch or a perfect set of words bending others to his requests. Not with Blaine, though, because on the other hand—Blaine knows _Sebastian._ More than he wants him to.

Sees past the bravado and the silver tongue. Sees his mistakes and his fears.

He sets the cup down on the table and Blaine looks up, hazel eyes hardening just slightly upon seeing him, protecting himself. “Medium drip.” Sebastian says, like that somehow explains everything, “Though I’m not sure how it’s going to stay hot out here.”

Blaine lets out a slow breath that puffs gently in the air, looking at the coffee cup like it’s a trap—and it most definitely is. “Luckily, I come prepared for such random deliveries of coffee.” He takes a thermos out of his satchel and pours the coffee into it and then takes a sip.

His face says _just how I like it_ and Sebastian smiles a little because he hasn’t forgotten how Blaine prefers his medium drip—cream, cinnamon, sugar. But that unfortunately does nothing to melt the block of ice between them.

Blaine knows exactly what this cup of coffee means, “What do you need, Sebastian?”

Sebastian takes a seat next to him, clicking his tongue off the roof of his mouth, “What, I can’t just do something nice?”

There’s soft amusement tugging the corners of Blaine’s lips but, “No,” He says and takes a sip from the thermos, “But thanks anyways.”

Sebastian lets out a slow breath, allowing himself to really _look_ at Blaine for a moment as he tries to figure out what to say next. Blaine’s the only guy that’s ever really made him feel like this, like he needs to actually consider the words about to come out of his mouth. That what he says _matters,_ for better or for worse.

And while this train of thought is obvious, it feels natural to mention how _good_ Blaine looks now that he’s returned to Dalton. They were friends, after all, when Blaine was dating Kurt and at McKinley. While Blaine’s always been handsome, there’s something about this version of him that seems to fit so much better than the other. He’s more relaxed here, comfortable in his own skin, a Dalton blazer over his shoulders and his skin a healthy pink—though that probably has to do with the fact that he’s sitting outside in the cold.

His gaze feel different though…lighter, somehow, even though Blaine’s not altogether happy with Sebastian when he looks at him. His hair has wide curls, not hidden away or destroyed with too much gel.

Beautiful in a bunch of different ways that Sebastian is not.

Which is why, he knows, once he’s able to talk about what’s going on…Blaine will most likely help him, because that’s the type of person Blaine is. At least, that’s what he’s hoping for.

“I do actually need a favor.” Sebastian says after a moment, taking a sip from his rapidly cooling coffee.

Blaine hums, as if he always knew this was coming and looks back down at the work spread out in front of him. “Not interested.”

Sebastian scrunches his nose, “You haven’t even heard what I needed yet.”

“And yet, somehow,” Blaine looks back up at him, standing his ground, “I know I’m not interested.”

Sebastian lets out a soft breath from his nose, wondering why he hadn’t suspected this. Blaine’s still upset with him, there’s no trust there. They may go to the same school, perform on the same team and be in one another’s orbit again, but that doesn’t mean Blaine’s forgotten about the slushie incident or that he’s unwilling to allow Sebastian to make amends. He’s accepted his apology and that feels more than enough.

“I’ll make it worth your while.” Sebastian promises because apparently he is not above bargaining. Blaine is the only option for this plan—he’s not about to go to someone else and try to talk to them about this.

Besides, his mother knows who Blaine is. If he shows up with another boy at this party, he mise well just go alone.

“You’re struggling in calc.” He taps the textbook on the table, “I can help you. That public school didn’t do you any favors with AP classes.”

Blaine purses his lips, “How do you know I’m struggling with math?”

A soft laugh that sounds a lot like _please_ leaves Sebastian’s lips as he takes another sip of his coffee, “You spend the beginning of every Warbler meeting complaining about calc to Nick and Jeff. I just know how to listen.”

Blaine hums and glances down at his notebook, “Yeah, you were always good at that.”

There’s something different about the way Blaine says that, no ire to his tone—he means that. Sebastian _did_ listen. So many people don’t know how to do that, how to listen with the intent of caring and not responding. Sebastian has a feeling that Blaine had to put up with that a lot, his ex-boyfriend hearing him in a conversation but not _listening._

“I’m just saying—calc is easy for me. I can help you.”

Blaine rolls his eyes slightly but turns his body more towards Sebastian; he’s got his attention now. “In exchange for what?”

God, there’s really no easy way to say this—so Sebastian just lets it slip out of his mouth, “I need you to come with me to a party and pretend to be my boyfriend.”

The reaction is almost immediate, a strangled noise leaving Blaine’s lips that’s almost a laugh, “You’re joking.” He watches Sebastian for a moment before he raises his eyebrows, “You are not joking.”

Sebastian sighs, shaking his head, “You seriously think I’d joke about something like this? I hate that I even have to ask you in the first place.”

“Well lucky for you, I know a quick solution—ask someone else.”

“You’re the only one it’ll work with,” Sebastian shakes his head, running a hand through his hair before sticking it in his coat pocket, “The only one my father will be convinced by.”

Blaine’s quiet for a few moments, looking away from him to really consider this. The mention of his father creates a whirlpool Sebastian knows Blaine would rather not think about. When they were friends, Sebastian would talk about his family sometimes because Blaine would listen and his father was always a topic of discussion. He’d talk about things that he had never mentioned to anyone else, things that hurt too much to say outloud otherwise.

But Blaine doesn’t say anything about that, instead, he doodles aimlessly in his notebook as he asks: “Why me though? Why am I the only one it’ll work with?”

Sebastian swallows, his eyes averting to look at anything but Blaine and decides the stitchwork of the wood table is far more interesting. “You know why.”

Blaine visibly swallows and even though he doesn’t say anything to that, he seems to understand where Sebastian is coming from. The inherent push and pull between them, the reason they always seem to end up back in one another’s trajectory, the reason Blaine’s forgiven Sebastian for making a stupid mistake, and the reason why this fake boyfriend nonsense won’t work with anyone else.

“You…really think your father will let you alone after this?”

Sebastian sighs, looking across the courtyard at baren trees that have yet to start budding again thanks to the cold weather. Honestly? He’s not sure. But he has to try—he can’t let this man get the better of him in this instance.

“If it’s believable, I think he will. He doesn’t like to lose.”

Blaine bites the inside of his cheek and closes his textbook, “And it’s just the one party?”

“Unless you want more, Anderson.”

A soft, unexpected laugh slips out of his throat, “I think being in a fake relationship with you for one night is more than enough.”

Sebastian smiles a little, the tension beginning to fizzle away in-between them. The last thing he’d call Blaine is ‘predictable’ but he’s glad he was able to trust in the fact that Blaine’s willing to give second chances, to help people who need it—especially if they don’t exactly deserve it.

“Should there be uh…” Blaine trails off for a moment, trying to figure out the best way to phrase this and Sebastian enjoys the soft pink blush splotching his cheeks far too much. “I dunno, ground rules?”

Sebastian raises an eyebrow, amusement dancing over his face, “Oh don’t worry—I promise I’ll only grab your ass if you ask nicely.”

Blaine rolls his eyes but he’s smiling at least, “You should be so lucky.”

“It has to be convincing,” Sebastian tells him, tapping his fingers aimlessly against the table, “But I won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

He thinks those are the concerns that hold the most water: _what is Blaine comfortable with? What boundaries are they allowed to press? What lines can they cross?_

But Sebastian knows that also comes with their own set of sub-questions: _what does this make them? What happens if they can’t walk backwards? What does a line become if it’s blurred too much?_

“Not sure what to tell you,” Blaine admits, rubbing the back of his neck, though Sebastian isn’t sure whether he does that because he’s cold or nervous. “Obviously, I want this to go through without a hitch for a few reasons but especially my calc grade.”

Sebastian hums a little, nursing the bit of coffee he has left. Blaine was smart to carry around a thermos…maybe he should begin doing the same, the paper cups offer no insulation. “Well, I will tell you that it’s a black-tie event because my father hosts a party no other way. We’ll need to create intimacy,” He inches closer to where Blaine’s seated at the table, their knees touching, “hand-holding, random touches,” To Blaine’s credit, he sits perfectly still when Sebastian lifts his hand to cup the side of Blaine’s cheek. He curls his fingers so that he can tuck a random curl behind his ear.

Blaine shivers, finally tearing his gaze away, which had been trained on Sebastian’s eyes.

Sebastian slowly pulls his hand back, “There will be dancing as well if that’s your thing. I know you have no issue doing that.”

A soft smile confirms his sentence before Blaine clears his throat, “And kissing? What about that?”

That seems like a no-brainer but the way Blaine asks…Sebastian gets the feeling it’s the last thing he wants to do, regardless of the deal they’re putting together. “It’ll be a little hard to sell the ‘boyfriends’ thing without kissing. I know you hate me, but it has to be part of the package.”

Blaine’s eyebrows scrunch together and words trip up in his mouth for a moment as he stumbles out, “I don’t—” He licks his lips, “It’s not about hating you.”

Sebastian holds his gaze for a long moment before nodding, his attention momentarily diverted to a group of J.V. lacrosse players coming out of the side door to head to practice. They notice him and wave and Sebastian forces a small smile before returning the gesture.

Sebastian clears his throat, a mask he knows far too well slipping into place at the feeling of rejection, “Look, nothing too obscene—okay? Not unless you want to,” He smirks, “And you definitely won’t find me saying no.”

That seems to placate Blaine, just a little, a look Sebastian can’t quite decipher gone as soon as it appears. He nods once, his hand opening towards the taller, “Alright, you got yourself a fake boyfriend.”

Sebastian’s hand slips around Blaine’s, their fingers cold but their palms warm as they squeeze eachother in agreement. “Glad to hear it, _babe.”_ He lays on thick, which just makes Blaine laugh.

\--


	2. Lies Wrapped in Velvet

**Chapter 2: Lies Wrapped in Velvet**

Blaine regrets this decision as soon as Sebastian leaves him.

He finds himself sitting at the table for a while, beginning to feel frozen regardless that he’s got the hot coffee in his thermos to help him. Eventually, he gets up, collecting his things and heading back to his dorm room because it feels like the only space he’ll be able to think in. He doesn’t have Warbler practice until later so he changes into warmer clothes and crawls into bed.

Sam’s probably working out in the McKinley gym but Blaine _has_ to talk about this to someone who’s not going to judge him. Sam’s always been that person—even through his relationship ups and downs with Kurt, the period of time Blaine thought he had a crush on him, and finally when he decided to bite the bullet and transfer back to Dalton. Sam was one of the only people who wasn’t angry with him, who hadn’t felt betrayed…but instead _listened_ and understood where he was coming from.

Blaine doesn’t think he deserves someone who’s so thoughtfully on his side but he _is_ incredibly thankful.

Especially for moments like this.

He waits patiently as the line rings, Sam picking up with a _hold on a second, dude_ and a soft clatter in the background. Blaine can hear the shifting of mats and clanging of weights,

“Hey man!” Sam greets, an obvious smile wrapping around his tone, “How’s Dalton?”

Blaine lets out a relaxed breath, looking down at his pillow as turns to lay on his stomach, “Honestly? Dalton’s been amazing. I miss you and Tina and stuff,” He admits, because he wants to make sure that’s clear. He never thought he could just give up McKinley and the New Directions and not care about those decisions. Even though some people saw his betrayal like that.

“But I…I really feel like I belong here, you know?”

Sam grunts as he picks up a weight, most likely doing arm reps as the phone sits nearby, “Yeah I do, I know how important that was to you before you left. Even though you _did_ belong here too.”

Blaine smiles a little and nods, because despite everything, he did know that. It all got so fucked up and twisted with Kurt that he needed a fresh start, he needed to go back to the last place he felt accepted and safe. He loves McKinley, loves the people he’s met and what the place has represented for him…

But none of that feels close in comparison to Dalton.

“So what’s going on?”

Blaine doesn’t really know where to begin but he attempts to explain the entire situation out, from start to finish. He interweaves interactions he’s had with Sebastian since he’s come back and there haven’t been many—usually just during the changing of classes, Warbler practice and random trips to the Lima Bean. Whether purposely or not, Blaine’s been avoiding him. He tried to convince himself in the beginning that it had everything to do with his wounded pride from the slushie incident, that he’s still upset with him for how it all went down. And maybe that’s part of it? The betrayal still feels very real despite accepting Sebastian’s apology.

But Blaine also knows it has something to do with a very different set of emotions, ones he’s not willing to discuss or even accept that they’re apparently still there. Because it’s easier to push Sebastian away than deal with them.

“Do you think I’m crazy?” He finally asks, pushing towards the real reason he’s called Sam.

His best friend will be honest with him, will give Blaine advice if he thinks he should call this whole thing off, will talk him through his reasons and explanations.

“No,” Sam laughs gently but it’s not at him. It’s more fond sounding than anything else. “I _do_ think you’re too nice for your own good. I’m sure you could tell him you changed your mind if you really don’t wanna do it.”

Blaine sighs and runs a hand through his curls, pressing his face into his pillow for a few moments. He hears the hidden conversation there, _unless it’s not really just about the calc grade._ “No, I…I told him I would. I can’t just back out of that. His father is kinda a _terrible_ person,” He shakes his head, “Picture Darth Vader.”

“Yikes,” Sam comments, like that’s all the description he needs. “Okay, let me just play the devil’s activist for a minute.”

“Advocate,” Blaine chuckles, but he figures it’s pretty much the same thing.

“Whatever,” Blaine can hear Sam testing the weight of something but the sound feels a little further away. Maybe he’s moved onto that machine where he uses his legs, keeping both of his hands free to hold onto his phone, “You feel bad for him, I get that B, but…it’s really not your problem, you know? It doesn’t erase what he’s done.”

Blaine swallows, lifting his head from the pillow and propping himself up on his elbows. He supposes…Sam does have a few points there? But he’d disagree that he feels _sorry_ for Sebastian. He knows what it’s like to have a father that doesn’t quite understand you, he empathizes with that, he’d never wish that tenuous relationship on anyone. But while Blaine’s father tries to have a good relationship with him despite the fact that he’s gay, Sebastian’s father seems to use that as yet another excuse as to why Sebastian’s a disappointment.

It doesn’t sit right with him.

And on another note, “Yeah, you’re right. It’s been…really hard for me to get past what he’s done. I just hate that…” Blaine shakes his head, not quite sure how to explain it. “He just ruined everything; you know?” Not that his friendship with Sebastian was particularly in good standing.

Sebastian weaseled his way in between his relationship with Kurt and his place in New Directions. But Blaine _let_ him…because Blaine enjoyed how Sebastian made him feel. How he saw him—a constant wave of emotions that always felt capable of drowning him.

How it still feels like that to be around him and why Blaine wants to be.

Sam seems to sense this quiet conversation going on inside him, clearing his throat to pull Blaine back to their discussion. “Do you think that you hate what he did so much because you…don't actually hate him that much at all?”

Blaine blinks.

“I think I’m just trying to say, like, it’s okay dude. If you like him.”

And maybe that’s just it—Blaine’s spent such a long time telling himself that these feelings were wrong, that they weren’t okay for one reason or another…but now there’s nothing _left_ but how he feels. There’s nothing in the way of stopping him from feeling them.

Blaine chews on his lower lip. He’s not about to say Sam’s right because he’s still…not sure if that’s what’s going on or not but, “And you wouldn’t…hate me? If that was…if that ended up being the case?”

Sam scoffs, “Come on. Do Luke Skywalker and Hans Solo hate one another? Or Steve Rogers and Iron Man? Batman and Superman?” Blaine smiles a little, shaking his head even though he doesn’t respond, “Nah, I didn’t think so.”

Sam clears his throat so Blaine knows what he’s about to say is serious, “You can’t help who you’re into, B.”

Blaine nods because yeah, he gets that, but sometimes he really wishes he could. “Yeah maybe I uh, I do have feelings for him. And I guess I just…I feel _guilty_ because—”

“Because you had them when you were with Kurt,” Sam fills in, following his line of thought. “And I’m not sayin’ that’s right, dude, even though you know how I feel about everything that went down with your ex.”

Blaine hums but doesn’t say anything, knows how supportive Sam had been over the messy long distance and breakup.

“But you’re single now and you’ve forgiven him—if you have serious feelings, what’s holdin’ you back?”

Blaine has no idea…and he has the feeling that answer isn’t going to come to him easy.

\--

Sebastian lets out a long sigh and runs a hand down the front of his shirt, checking to make sure it doesn’t have any wrinkles…not that Blaine would judge such a small thing. Going to this party tonight that his father is hosting, he for some reason feels like there can’t be one hair out of place. He’s trying his best not to think about what’s going to happen if his father doesn’t buy into this whole boyfriend thing.

He wonders if he won’t accept it no matter how convincing it seems.

Sebastian shakes his head and knocks on Blaine’s dorm room door. He’s already explained to him that the party is being hosted at his place and that it’ll most likely go late, so packing an overnight bag will probably be the best way to go. Sebastian’s not sure how he expected Blaine to take _that_ news but it was…overwhelmingly calm, like it was all part of the plan.

Actually, he’s still not sure how he’s convinced Blaine to do this whole damn thing, so. Maybe he shouldn’t jinx any of it with overanalyzing.

“You’re early.” Blaine says as he opens up the door.

Sebastian’s mouth opens a little as he’s met with the gorgeous vision of Blaine dressed in a black-on-black suit. He’s not wearing a tie yet and his sleeves remain unbuttoned but…part of him just wants to accept Blaine as he is. He’s a _sight_ like this—the fabric of his suit nearly iridescent in the right light, curls wild and thick on top of his head, wearing a hint of cologne that Sebastian recognizes. It causes his stomach to tighten as he takes as step inside his room.

“Sorry, I figured you wouldn’t mind. You’re usually pretty punctual.”

Blaine makes a soft noise but doesn’t say anything, instead buzzing over to where his overnight bag isn’t completely ready to go. The zipper of the duffel is still tugged open and he quickly shoves in clothes that are surrounding it on his mattress; sweaters, joggers, jeans—it’s like he’s not quite sure what he’ll need.

“We’re not going on safari.” Sebastian teases to which Blaine glares over his shoulder.

“I like being prepared.”

Sebastian chuckles lightly and rests against the desk in the room, glancing down at the assortment of bowties that are there. “Which one are you wearing?”

Blaine scrunches his nose, wandering over to where he’s leaning, “I’m not sure yet.” His hazel gaze meets Sebastian’s green one, “What do you think will look best?”

Sebastian purses his lips in thought a moment, fingers grazing along the material of the bowties. While he really likes the blue one and the sea green, he thinks something brighter will stick out best with Blaine’s dark suit. He picks up a mustard yellow one that has a barely there print of birds on it,

“This one. It’ll bring out the gold flecks in your eyes.”

“My eyes don’t have golden tones to them.”

Sebastian smiles a little, gaze trained on the hazel—analyzing but appreciating too, something altogether fond as he holds Blaine’s gaze. “Yes,” He says calmly, “They do.”

Blaine clears his throat, fiddling with the bowtie in his hands, “Want to help me tie this?” Even though he doesn’t need the help.

The taller smirks and nods, flipping Blaine’s collar up so that the fabric can slide around his neck. He works with expertise fingers, knotting it perfectly so that it’s centered on Blaine’s throat. He then tugs on both sides of the collar and nods, taking another once over,

“Perfect.”

A soft blush kisses Blaine’s cheeks as he shakes his head, dipping his chin slightly, “You don’t clean up too terribly yourself.” His hand settles against Sebastian’s chest, his fingers brushing over a few buttons of his dress shirt.

Sebastian forces himself not to shiver, even though it does cause that sensation to trace down his spine when he can feel the heat of Blaine’s skin against his own—tantalizing and incredibly distracting.

He clears his throat and straightens his posture a little, “Are you nervous?” Sebastian smiles slightly, “You seem nervous.”

Blaine allows himself to laugh slightly, “What gave me away? Couldn’t have been the numerous bowties on the desk or the haphazard packing technique.”

Sebastian grins, his hand settling along Blaine’s when it doesn’t leave his chest. “Was just a guess. There’s no need for you to be nervous. It’ll be over before you know it.”

There’s a soft pinch that appears between Blaine’s eyes that’s gone before Sebastian a chance to really figure out what it is. The taller swallows, cupping Blaine’s cheek so that he can run his thumb along the soft lines between Blaine’s eyebrows and despite the unsure aura Blaine seems to have about this whole thing, he readily melts into it.

Maybe he’s a better actor than Sebastian gave him credit for.

Sebastian’s not sure what presses him to do this—maybe it’s the beautiful color of Blaine’s eyes, _definitely_ highlighted by the mustard hues in his bowtie, or maybe it’s the way his hand moves to brush his thumb along his cheekbone, or the perfect, pink swell of Blaine’s lips. Either way, he finds himself slowly leaning forward—giving Blaine more than enough time to pull away, because his intentions are very clear.

But Blaine doesn’t pull away, in fact, he presses himself _into_ Sebastian’s space and allows their lips to meet.

The kiss is short and tentative, a meeting of skin and heat as they get used to one another. Sebastian’s pictured something like this so many times—how it’d feel to have Blaine pressed against him, the multitude of instances where he’d be able to kiss him and exactly how it’d make him feel. Heat coils in his stomach and there’s this _sound_ that Blaine makes, which he’ll probably deny making later—

And that’s when the kiss turns into something more grounded, more real.

Sebastian tilts his head into it, his fingers hooking Blaine around his neck and drawing him closer. Blaine’s hand hasn’t left his chest, grabbing at the material of Sebastian’s shirt and causing wrinkles but he couldn’t care less—the indentations just prove that something’s happened, that he hasn’t made this up.

Eventually they have to pull apart, to gather air in their lungs and Blaine licks his lips—a sight that will definitely be engrained in Sebastian’s memory.

“What…what was that for?” Blaine asks softly and Sebastian swallows because…isn’t it obvious?

Or maybe, perhaps, it isn’t and that’s part of the problem—both of them wrapped up in lies that they’ve created for themselves. The velvet more comfortable and safer than the harsh blade tips of honesty and truth.

“I just figured…we’d get that out of the way so you can concentrate tonight.” Sebastian offers the softest of smiles, pulling back to give them both some space.

Blaine uses that excuse to take a step away, straightening out his suit jacket before he nods, clearing his throat. “I should uhm, finish getting packed.”

Sebastian hums a little as Blaine turns away, getting back to the task at hand so that they’re not late and smooths the creases out on his dress shirt until they disappear—until you’d never know they were there in the first place.

\--

Blaine hasn’t seen the inside of Sebastian’s house even though he’s pictured what it looked like a thousand times. He’s thought about a ton of different combinations, from warm cherry wood to cold steel frames, to grayish blue walls, to sunflower stenciled wallpaper. Sebastian’s family don’t seem like the type to keep a lot of knick-knacks or family portraits but maybe he’s wrong—maybe the walls are covered with different photographs from family vacations to France, of a tiny Sebastian running around exploring the world around him, of Christmases and birthdays and Sebastian’s Warbler competitions. Maybe the house is warm, the type of familial love you can feel in the walls of a place, seeping outward.

When Blaine crosses the threshold and offers Sebastian his coat to hang up, taking a glance around—he feels a little foolish that he didn’t suspect that it’d be exactly like this.

Even though there’s a party taking place, a ton of people present and mingling, there’s an overwhelming sense of loneliness. Blaine waits in the foyer as Sebastian handles their coats, taking in the tall ceilings, the off-white sponged patterned walls, the dark wood. A shiver courses down his spine that he blames on the draft coming in from the front door, Sebastian’s hand settling low on his back as he guides them further inside.

It’s no wonder why Sebastian would choose to set himself up at the Lima Bean after classes, that he’d rather work there than put himself inside this house for any longer than necessary. At least the Lima Bean felt busy and welcoming.

The living and dining room are the biggest and where the most traffic lies. Sebastian’s father has spared no expenses for this annual party, there’s even space for a small band near the tall windows, just beyond the fireplace. They’re playing slow, instrumental tunes that one could dance to if they really wanted—Blaine glances up at Sebastian, who’s rolling his eyes at the display. Maybe later.

Sebastian has them pause in front of a table that has multiple glasses of champagne and Blaine offers small smiles towards anyone who passes and looks in their direction. Clearly Richard Smythe’s business associates know who Sebastian is, their gazes open and curious, tuned with slight gossip. Blaine thinks the set-up of the room would be nice if it weren’t for the people currently occupying it—tall, circular cocktail tables covered with ruby-red cloth, bundles of red roses littering corners, small lanterns filled with tea candles.

“My father likes to pretend he’s this important lawyer from New York or something,” Sebastian says, handing Blaine a champagne flute. “He forgets that he’s from _Ohio,_ for Christ’s sake.”

Blaine smiles a little and takes a sip, the bubbles tickling his nose, “I was actually thinking…that this place kinda looks like the inside of a funeral home. Or we’re in a horror movie where people might be sacrificed at an altar.”

A sudden laugh slips out of Sebastian’s mouth, the corners of his eyes crinkling when he smiles, “I didn’t realize you were funny.”

Blaine grins and takes a step closer, into Sebastian’s personal space. He looks up at him through his eyelashes, laying it on thick, “Isn’t that why you decided to date me?”

Sebastian hums, his eyes sparkling with interest, “That’s definitely _one_ of my reasons.” His hand settles on Blaine’s waist, squeezing slightly as he leans down—

And the moment is interrupted by Sebastian’s mother, “Blaine, so nice to see you again, dear. You look so handsome.”

Blaine smiles and reaches out to clasp Mrs. Smythe’s hand; he’s only met her once in the Lima Bean and spoken to her a few times when she appeared in the background of one of his calls with Sebastian. She’s dressed in a beautiful, silver cocktail dress which brings out the pale greenness of her eyes.

Her expression is warm when she greets him but she looks sad, almost as if she’d rather be anywhere else. The mask she has schooled over her face is well placed, glued to her skin, something Sebastian has picked up on and mastered for himself.

“Mrs. Smythe, it’s really nice to see you too. Thank you.”

“Oh please, call me Rose.” She gently waves off, reaching to hug her son next, “Glad you could make it. Sebastian’s spoken a lot about you—I was glad to hear that you transferred back to Dalton—such a wonderful school for boys as talented as yourself.”

Blaine nods, allowing his arm to slip around Sebastian’s waist so he can lean against the taller’s chest. “Not that I didn’t love McKinley but…I think Dalton just offers something I was missing.” He glances up at the taller, his nose softly brushing the underside of Sebastian’s chin.

Rose smiles, cupping the one side of Sebastian’s face in a fond gesture before she disappears across the room to greet someone else. Sebastian seems to let out a slow breath, one he didn’t realize he was holding between his ribs before,

“My mother adores you, not that I’m surprised.”

Blaine takes another sip from his champagne flute, a triumphant smile tugging the corners of his mouth, “What can I say? Parents love me.”

“I’ll be _really_ impressed if you’re still singing that tune once my father talks to you.”

Speak of the devil…Richard Smythe seems to hear them, entering from the kitchen with a glass of scotch in hand. Blaine can feel Sebastian’s entire body tense against him and he does his best to help by gliding a palm along his spine. It’s interesting, to say the least, to see Sebastian like this—his mask slipping out of place. He’s usually so calm, composed, ready for sharp wit or a comeback. Even with Warbler competitions, Blaine has never really seen him _nervous._

And he’s not quite sure how to help.

Blaine lets out a slow breath and presses himself up on his toes to plant a kiss on Sebastian’s cheek. That seems to startle the taller out of his thought process, blinking down at Blaine before clearing his throat,

“Did you want to get something to eat?”

Their hands wordlessly slip together, fingers lacing as Blaine nods and Sebastian tugs him towards the kitchen. They pass Mr. Smythe but neither say anything, even though Sebastian’s father is definitely _looking._

There are a few caterers in the large kitchen space, bustling around getting apps on trays and champagne glasses filled. Sebastian makes a beeline for a large cabinet near the fridge, reaching up to take out a package of Oreos.

“Unless you want foie gras pâtes or shrimp skewers.” Blaine’s entire face scrunches up, making Sebastian laugh as he leans back against the counter. “I didn’t think so. Milk?”

Blaine nods and Sebastian retrieves two glasses to fill up halfway with milk, gently passing it over to him. Blaine digs into the pack of Oreos, twisting the cookie so that it comes apart…while Sebastian dunks his Oreo in milk.

“Figures you’d be a dunker.”

Sebastian raises an eyebrow, “This judgement is coming from someone who’s licking icing right now?”

Blaine grins, taking the icing completely off the one side of the cookie with his tongue before popping the rest of it into his mouth. “That’s the only way to eat it.” He argues, taking a sip of milk.

Sebastian lets out a soft, amused scoff. He dunks the rest of his Oreo and places it into his mouth, “I think you just wanted to show me what your tongue could do.”

The blush that spreads over Blaine’s face is utterly ridiculous, he can already tell just from the grin on the taller’s face. Red, heated skin—but he refuses to let it get the better of him. “You wish.”

Sebastian chuckles lightly and takes another Oreo from the container, “Yes, I do.” He agrees.

Blaine shakes his head and moves to intercept the Oreo before Sebastian can dunk it, his fingers grazing the other’s, “Try it my way.” To which the taller gives him a face. “Come on,” He laughs lightly, “Please?”

Sebastian sighs dramatically and rolls his eyes but he folds to Blaine’s request. He takes the cookie apart, licks the icing with a scrunched nose and then eats the rest of the cookie. Blaine moves to swipe his thumb directly under Sebastian’s lower lip where a tiny smudge of filling sits. It feels incredibly too intimate and natural all at the same time.

“Your turn.”

Blaine huffs out a sound as Sebastian hands him a cookie, “Okay, but I hate crumbs…” He mumbles and then dunks his cookie into Sebastian’s milk so he doesn’t have to worry about it.

He then eats it and shrugs his shoulder, unimpressed, “I’ve had better.”

“Just be lucky we don’t have any peanut butter because I think _that_ way is unparalleled.”

Blaine laughs, “We are in agreement,” Before taking another sip of milk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading :) any comments / kudos are appreciated!


	3. Not before, not after. Not now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really appreciate everyone who has been offering kudos and comments and reblogging / liking the post on tumblr :3 means a lot. only one more chapter to go after this! thanks so much for reading.

**Chapter 3:** Not before, not after. Not now

Unfortunately, they can’t hide in the kitchen forever and slowly have to make it back to the living and dining room area. Even though his parents don’t ask him to, Sebastian makes the rounds with Blaine in tow—he introduces himself (and Blaine as his boyfriend) to prominent lawyers and businessmen that his father knows.

If anything, Sebastian knows how to make an impression, creating networks with everyone he meets. It’s quite a sight to see, if Blaine’s being honest. Sebastian’s always been somewhat of a riptide to Blaine, capable of constantly pulling him under a current. The more he struggles, the more he succumbs.

The problem has always been how it’s never _felt_ like much of a problem at all.

Blaine doesn’t mind surrendering.

As the night progresses, he’s felt Richard Smythe’s gaze on them, observing. It’s prominent, like two needles sticking into Blaine’s back along his shoulder blades. He doesn’t give the older Smythe the satisfaction of attention, of looking back in his direction. Instead, he focuses on Sebastian—he offers wide smiles, kisses to his cheek, comforting and firm hands on his lower back as he talks with other people at this party, his gaze warm and affectionate.

It’s not much of a stretch of how Blaine _would_ look at Sebastian anyways, how he’s looked at him in the past.

Sebastian’s father is seeking flaws but he’s not going to find any. Though, it shouldn’t come as much of a surprise when Blaine slips away to use the restroom that Richard is nearby when he exits, standing between him and rejoining the party.

“Blaine Anderson,” The cadence of Richard’s voice sounds exactly like Sebastian’s, deeper though, as if that’s what Sebastian might sound like when he’s older, “So nice to finally meet you.”

Blaine doubts that but he smiles nonetheless and shakes the outstretched hand when it’s presented. “Mr. Smythe. Lovely party—Sebastian tells me you host something like this every year.”

“No better way to start the new year than with fresh beginnings.”

Blaine hums, glancing into the living room where Sebastian is talking with another suit and chews on the inside of his cheek, “I couldn’t agree more.” He inclines his head forward, hoping that signifies the end of their conversation and his return to Sebastian.

“You’re the boy—aren’t you?” The words stop Blaine in his tracks and he slowly turns. Mr. Smythe doesn’t elaborate immediately but Blaine already knows where this is going, “The uh, the eye. The boy Sebastian insisted we pay the medical bills for.”

Mr. Smythe is clearly trying to knock Blaine off balance but he can’t help the soft, stunned expression that flutters over his face for a moment. He hadn’t realized that Sebastian’s family had paid for the treatment of his eye—Sebastian, nor his own family, had ever said anything about it to him.

Blaine clears his throat, “I’d rather not talk about that—if it’s all the same to you. That’s in the past.”

Mr. Smythe smiles a little, taking a sip from his drink as he walks a few steps towards Blaine, “I guess I’m just surprised you not only forgave him but wanted to _date_ someone who nearly blinded you.”

The words sound far too much like something Kurt would say and Blaine finds himself bristling, just slightly because, “It was an accident.”

People bring up the slushie incident all the time—for God knows what. His friends, the Warblers, his family, Sebastian and his father— _Blaine_ was the one who was injured, for Christ’s sake. If he can let it go, why can’t everyone else?

“I don’t know about you, Mr. Smythe, but I don’t judge people on their mistakes. Especially ones that they’ve already paid for.”

And Blaine isn’t talking about money. Sebastian knows exactly what that accident had cost him, how betrayed Blaine had felt—how, for a while there, Blaine wasn’t willing to accept his apology.

But they found their way back from that and shouldn’t that count for something? Even if it’s a ridiculous plan for fake dating that helps rebuild their friendship and trust?

Blaine passes Richard Smythe, making his way back into the crowd of people. He searches for Sebastian, eventually finding him nursing a glass of champagne near the fireplace. He’s listening to the band play through an instrumental piece that offers no inspiration to dance to.

“Hey,” Sebastian smiles, setting down his champagne flute, “Was just about to send out a search and rescue team.” He teases, “Thought you got lost—”

Blaine feels an overwhelming sensation crash down onto him like thunder, shaking his entire core. He wraps his arms around Sebastian’s shoulders and draws him down into a kiss—he’s not sure what makes him do it or his thought process on how to explain afterwards. All of that melts away anyways when their lips meet.

Sebastian’s hesitant, only for a moment because he’s surprised before he gives into it and kisses back. Blaine knows it’s incredibly cliché for him to think that the world around them becomes something like a watercolor painting, that it all fades into the background but…for a few moments there is _nothing_ except the two of them. Nothing except for their lips moving, the heat of their bodies pressed together, the sensation of Blaine’s heartbeat in his ears and the soft noises Sebastian’s making that he can feel vibrating against his chest.

The taller lets out a soft breath of air when they pull apart, a smile tugging the corners of his mouth, “Clearly, you need to be asked to be someone’s fake boyfriend more often.”

Blaine smiles, shaking his head as he goes to open his mouth and say something—maybe a suggestion to go somewhere else, _anywhere_ else. But someone is stealing Sebastian’s attention and Blaine doesn’t have to look to know who it is.

“I’ll be right back.” Sebastian promises, squeezing Blaine’s hands with his own before disappearing out of the living room.

\--

Sebastian isn’t quite sure what’s going on with Blaine but he thinks he can at least say that tonight has gone off well. His mother seems happy or, at least, less comatose than usual, he’s had some great conversations with his father’s business partners and has opened up a few doors for upcoming college internships and he’s not completely _miserable._ So he considers that, within itself, a win. Being with Blaine has always made him feel comfortable in his own skin so it’s no surprise that this party isn’t any different.

Now he just as to deal with whatever discussion his father wants to have and maybe they can head upstairs for the night, finish the party early. Sebastian lets out a deep breath and follows his father into his study, allowing the door to remain ajar as he watches him go behind his desk and fill up his glass of scotch. There’s a fire crackling in the fireplace near one of his bookshelves, the orange glow that should be warming and inviting a tiny bit threatening in the darkness of his office.

Sebastian should be smug—he’s won, and both of them know it. And yet, with Richard Smythe, there’s always a loophole, always the feeling that another shoe has yet to drop.

“So,” His father clears his throat, “Blaine, hmm?”

Sebastian raises his eyebrows, crossing his arms over his chest. He doesn’t say anything, isn’t sure what he’s supposed to reply with anyways. Having talks with his father constantly feels like he’s walking into some sort of snare.

“As a good lawyer, you have to know when to keep going…and when to accept defeat.” Sebastian’s too afraid to accept the sincerity in his father’s voice, even though he desperately wants to, “I see the way Blaine looks at you and that’s real.”

Sebastian wants nothing more than to slowly back out of his father’s study—he knows what a well-worded trap looks like. Another characteristic of being a decent lawyer.

“Right well,” He nods his head once, “I should be getting back.”

“I just want you to know that…those looks? They won’t keep, Sebastian.”

And there it is, the moment Sebastian was waiting for—the deafening after a bomb being dropped. He swallows, not wanting to engage but also? Waiting to know what he means. Is this a warning? A threat?

“The way Blaine looks at you,” Richard clarifies, “Your mother used to have the same gaze for me. It doesn’t last…not with the type of men as we are.”

“What are you…?” Sebastian works his jaw; he should have known that his expectations would come tumbling down. It’s not like he wants his father’s approval, knows he won’t get it anyways so he doesn’t waste his time. But there’s this _anger_ that bubbles up inside of him like molten lava because…of course his father is trying to take this from him.

Even though the victory is small, even though Blaine’s not his real boyfriend anyways. Sebastian’s father can’t just let him have this.

“What are you saying?” Sebastian snaps, finally getting the words out, “That I’m not good enough for him?”

Richard sighs, setting down his glass on the desk like he doesn’t quite comprehend why he has to explain this. As if he’s talking to a very small child who doesn’t understand, “I’m saying—once a person shows you who they are, believe them. Blaine knows what type of person you are—people want to change but they’re not capable of it.”

Sebastian’s mouth falls open a little, burning emotion that feels trapped behind his ribcage ready to burst forth even though he’s not sure what words are going to come out—

Blaine takes a step forward into the study, interrupting the conversation with a patient calm. “With all due respect, Mr. Smythe, that’s not true.” Sebastian wants to ask how long he’s been standing there, how much of the conversation he’s overheard—but it’s clear he’s listened to enough.

“Anyone is capable of change; they just have to be willing to actually _do it.”_ He says, almost pointedly and Sebastian hides a smirk threatening to pull at the ends of his mouth. His father looks wound up, eyes a little wild and reflecting the fire burning in the hearth at being interrupted.

But Blaine doesn’t allow him to get another word in,

“For a while after I came back to Dalton, it was hard for me to accept. Actually, I was avoiding him _because_ I noticed he changed and I didn’t know how to feel about that.”

Sebastian swallows and distantly wonders if that’s true. He knows that Blaine has been creating space between them but…he just figured it’s because he’d burned the bridge between them, because there was no possibility of it being built back again. They’d spent time in the café, in group work for classes, sharing the last table at the Lima Bean, tackling rowdy and enjoyable Warbler practices…but he never thought it’d amount to anything.

“Sebastian wants to be better than he was, better than _you,”_ Richard Smythe straightens his shoulders at that, but says nothing. Blaine gently reaches for the taller’s hand, “and he is. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here with him tonight.”

And for once? His father has nothing to say as Blaine tugs him out of the study.

\--

They end up near the band, slow dancing to another instrumental tune that reminds Sebastian of a waltz he saw in a ballet once. He holds Blaine close, trying to process what’s happened, his brain short circuiting as he realizes his father has _yet_ to leave his study. Blaine’s one hand rests against his own while the other snakes up his back, incredibly distracting and all-consuming—the heat of his skin melting through the fabric against his own.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Sebastian finally says, squeezing Blaine’s hand as he looks down at him. “Defending my honor really wasn’t part of the deal.” He teases.

Blaine smiles a little and shrugs his one shoulder, allowing Sebastian to lead as their bodies gently sway and turn, “I wanted to. He was wrong about you anyways.”

And while Sebastian wants nothing more than to believe that…he’s not so sure. “Was he?” He lets out a slow breath, unable to look Blaine in the eye as he continues. He’s had these feelings under lock and key, buried underneath for so long he was worried that the words were being stripped from the emotions, that he wouldn’t be able to vocalize them at some point.

“I hurt someone that I really cared about because…” He scoffs, “I didn’t get my way. It doesn’t matter that I was aiming at Kurt—I was _jealous_ of him.” That thought still clearly disgusts and frustrates him. It’s no secret that Sebastian thinks pretty highly of himself and for him to be jealous of someone like Kurt Hummel?

“And now look at us. We’re…we’re barely even friends. You agreed to this whole thing because you’re too much of a nice person, Blaine. I don’t think I’d even blame you if you hated this. Hated _me.”_

Blaine shakes his head, a somewhat tired sigh leaving his lips, “Come on, Sebastian,” He says, gaining the taller’s attention once their eyes meet again. “I think…we both know that I never really hated you. Not before, not after. Not now.”

Sebastian smiles slowly, taking Blaine’s hand and twirling him—mostly to catch him off balance. Blaine laughs, the sound causing heat to explode in the taller’s chest and he leans down to nuzzle their noses once he draws the shorter closer again.

“Let’s get out of here for a while.”

Blaine grins before stealing a soft kiss.


	4. Stay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so sorry this last update took forever. My life has been a mess a;lsfkjd enjoy!

**Chapter 4: Stay**

Gathering their coats, they pile into Sebastian’s car and drive to the Lima Bean. It takes a while for the heat to fill up the small space, Blaine pulling his sleeves over his hands to keep them warm. He allows Sebastian to take one of them, lacing their fingers together and holding their palms pressed together as they rest on his knee while he drives.

Once they park, they decide to stay in the car instead of finding a table inside. Blaine’s grateful that Sebastian offers to go order their drinks to bring them back out, a soft smile on the corners of his mouth as he watches the taller brave the cold weather to do so. Blaine slips his phone out of his pocket and sends a text to Sam, _you were right,_ to which his best friend replies, _I usually am ;)._

Blaine smirks and puts his phone down—he can explain everything later, besides…as of right now he feels like all he has is _feeling_ more than anything else. Not a lot of words to stick directly to the sensation of heat building in his chest as he watches Sebastian walk back out with their drinks.

When he really takes a moment to look at him, to allow his eyes to travel over the other’s form, he realizes how gorgeous Sebastian really is. Something he’s definitely always noticed and known but finds himself appreciating now. It’s not just the fact that he’s tall or well-muscled, the swoop of his hair, or piano fingers or the flecks of gold in his green eyes that remind him of autumn leaves on a still pond.

It’s the fact that Blaine meant what he said to Sebastian’s father—that Sebastian’s _changed._ It’s in the way that Sebastian looks at him, the warmth and intimacy that’s there that the taller rarely has for anyone else. There’s patience and compassion that comes from growing up but it’s also in something tender that Sebastian seems to hold for Blaine alone.

Something Blaine was afraid to let himself see, to let himself _feel._

He lets out a slow breath as Sebastian gets back into the car, shivering as he closes the door. He hands over a latte, their fingers brushing,

“Hazelnut latte. That work for you?”

Blaine smiles and breathes in the nutty flavor before nodding, “Definitely.” 

They sit in a comfortable silence for a while, enjoying the weight of one another’s company, the scent of coffee heady but pleasant in the air. Blaine distantly wonders how long the party will go on at Sebastian’s house.

“You know, you’re pretty good at the whole ‘fake boyfriend’ thing.”

Blaine smiles a little, looking down at his coffee cup, “If you’re impressed by that, you should see me be a real one.” And it sounds a lot like a promise that neither of them comments on.

Sebastian chews on his lower lip, glancing out the front windshield. It looks like it might snow soon, something Blaine can smell in the air, “If you need or if you’d rather, I can drive you back to Dalton.”

Blaine shakes his head, putting his seatbelt back on after he puts his cup down in the cupholder. He doesn’t need a way out, “No, I want to stay with you.”

Sebastian smiles, dipping his chin slightly before he takes the car out of park and begins their drive back to his place.

\--

Here’s the thing about Sebastian—he’s pretty decent with words but he’s better at touch. He’s not sure he believes in that whole ‘love language’ nonsense, but if he did? That would definitely be his. Why complicate matters with drawn out speeches when a well-placed hand or position of his body will do?

Blaine seems to be on the same wavelength, responding to touch just as easily and openly.

Sebastian’s not exactly sure what’s going on between them but it’s very obvious that something has shifted. Blaine could go back to Dalton; he could be finished with the night—he’s held up his end of the bargain and Sebastian will hold up his by helping him with calc first thing tomorrow. But he stays and Sebastian carries his overnight bag up the stairs and down the hall to the guest room when they get back to his home. The party has clearly ended but there are still a few businessmen that remain, drinking brandy and coffee in the living room, speaking in low tones with his parents.

Sebastian’s just glad that part of the night is over.

Blaine takes his bag from him and wanders into the guestroom, taking a brief look around as he sets the duffel on the bed.

“You know, sometimes? Your house kinda reminds me of a museum.”

Sebastian smiles a little and leans against the doorframe, watching Blaine with a fond expression. “Well, I promise this room isn’t any more haunted than the others.”

“Hush.” Blaine throws back, sliding his suit jacket off his shoulders and setting it along the back of a desk chair. He takes a few steps towards Sebastian, his hands clasping together in front, a soft smile on his lips. “So uh, your bedroom is…”

“Down the hall.” Sebastian motions to the right with a head tilt. “Why?”

And this is what he means about words getting in the way, of a conversation carried out with touch alone. Blaine shrugs his one shoulder _just curious_ and holds his gaze for a long three moments before pressing himself up on his toes and kissing him.

Blaine tugs him into the room, his hands fisting the material of his shirt. There’s a secret thrill working heat throughout Sebastian’s body as he closes the door with his foot, the fact that he’ll get away with whatever he’s about to do with Blaine right under his parent’s roof. The _only_ time he’s ever been happy with the fact that they don’t see him, that they don’t care what he’s up to, that they neither check on him or worry that he’s getting into trouble.

Sebastian backs Blaine up until both of them hit the bed, Blaine reaching out to shove his duffel bag away and onto the floor as they tumble into the mattress. A soft laugh leaves the shorter’s lips, making Sebastian smile and he takes a very long moment to absorb the fact that this is _Blaine_ beneath him.

Something and someone he’s wanted for so long.

Blaine takes the lead and Sebastian lets him, which isn’t something he usually does—he’s very much someone who enjoys being in control, who thrives off of it, who needs it. But he also realizes that this is about trust, that Sebastian’s worked so hard to rebuild the bridge that caught fire, that it exists between them once again.

The taller smiles against Blaine’s lips, movements quickening as layers of clothes are lost.

Their bodies move like magnets, kisses becoming a bit more intimate and haphazard all at the same time. Blaine’s hands are all over his body, first in his hair and then down his back before they slip into the back of his dress pants. Sebastian groans, rolling their hips together, sweat creating a sheen along his neck and spine. Their breathing is ragged, creating an echo of a heartbeat in his ears, panting as they both move towards their desired destinations.

It’s not well thought out or planned but Sebastian thinks that what he likes best about it—it’s about _feeling,_ about a desperateness that have resided in both of them for a very long time.

Hands wrap around cocks, fingers working with expertise precision, encouraging moans and names leaving lips.

Sebastian isn’t sure who cums first but he swears he sees stars, black and gold alike sparking along his vision as he squeezes his eyes shut. Blaine’s lips are against the pulse point on his throat, murmuring his name and nipping at his skin.

He rolls off of Blaine after a few moments, cock resting lazily against his dress pants. He’s a fucking mess, clothes strewn and tugged everywhere, pleasure licking at raw nerve endings as he tries to get his breathing back under control.

Sebastian moves to clean them up, grabbing a few tissues from the nightstand as silence sits comfortably between them. Once that’s finished, Blaine leans over and rests his chin on his shoulder, pressing a kiss underneath his ear.

“Stay.” He whispers.

It’s a simple request but all Sebastian needs to hear.

\--

When Blaine wakes up, sunlight is streaming through the curtains of the guest bedroom. He runs a hand over his face, pressing himself to sit up. He hasn’t quite opened his eyes up all the way, blindly reaching beside him for the warm body that should be there…

And yet Sebastian isn’t.

He frowns, finally squinting with a yawn, his hand grazing over cooled, rumpled sheets. Blaine knows that Sebastian didn’t return to his own bed in the middle of the night because he’d rolled over and checked the time at six in the morning and Sebastian was there. He had pressed his face into the warm column of his throat, a soft comforting sound reverberating in the taller’s chest before he had fallen back asleep.

He’s slightly disappointed at waking up alone but not entirely surprised.

Blaine yawns and pulls himself from bed and riffles through his duffel bag for clothes to put on, settling for a pair of gray joggers and a navy-blue sweater. He runs a hand through his messy curls and slips out of the guest room. He checks Sebastian’s bedroom on the way to the stairs, also empty, and makes his way down to the first level.

Blaine finds himself thinking about a younger Sebastian as his hand slides down the bannister, glancing at family photos along the walls, mostly portraits that are in black and white and probably Sebastian’s grandparents. Blaine’s own home is relatively smaller but has never felt _empty,_ even when he was alone.

This house reminds him of a lone mansion in the middle of the woods in a fairytale or a scary movie—the very walls unable to retain memories of happiness and familiarity. He wonders if a change in décor would help; more windows, warm colors, or something like it.

He passes through the living and dining room, hearing noises coming from the kitchen. When Blaine steps over the threshold, he sees Sebastian making breakfast, a soft smile tugging the corners of his mouth as he watches him. He’s in a pair of sweats and a crisp, white t-shirt, leaning over the stove and cooking what smells like bacon.

Blaine rests his shoulder against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest, “I didn’t realize you knew how to cook.”

Sebastian turns and looks over his shoulder, smiling at Blaine, “What, because my mother practically orders a caterer when it’s convenient?” He shakes his head, moving to another pan that has fluffy eggs sizzling, “Bacon and eggs are easy anyways.”

“You’d be surprised.” Blaine comments as he walks into the kitchen.

Sebastian takes a moment to pour Blaine some coffee from the pot, nudging the sugar bowl closer and motioning to the fridge where the milk is. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“No,” Blaine scoops a few dollops of sugar into his mug, stirring, “You didn’t, unfortunately.”

Sebastian smiles slightly as Blaine grabs the milk from the fridge, turning the eggs off and then pulling the button down on the toaster. He makes eye contact with Blaine, holding his gaze for a moment before he nods.

“Duly noted.”

Blaine smiles, putting milk into his coffee before taking a long sip. He likes the sound of those two words, like a promise being made, a _next time._

“House is pretty empty,” Blaine comments after a few moments, taking a seat at the counter. Sebastian finishes up the bacon, putting both that and the eggs on a big plate to set on the island table that Blaine’s at.

“Yeah my dad always leaves early for work and I’m assuming he wants to avoid any confrontation about last night.” Sebastian puts forks on the table and a few extra plates, glancing over his shoulder at the toaster that hasn’t popped yet. “My mom is at a farmer’s market.”

Blaine snags a piece of bacon, munching on the crunchy piece, “So you think last night worked? That he’ll uh, leave you to your own decisions?”

Sebastian takes a sip of coffee, the toast finally ready. He puts the bread on the table with cinnamon-sugar butter and sits down next to Blaine, “I think he’ll never really stop hassling me about taking over his law office, which whatever, I can handle that. I’m still not sure what I want to do after I graduate, maybe a lawyer wouldn’t be so bad.”

Blaine gets what it’s like to still be second-guessing the future—he’s not exactly sure what it holds either. He thought he knew, once, had everything planned out so intricately that there was never any room to breathe. Maybe not having a roadmap and taking things day by day was exactly what Blaine needed to see things that were important to him right in front of his face.

“And the…other thing?” He asks, putting butter on his toast. Blaine turns a little in his seat to better see Sebastian’s face, watching as the other scoops up his eggs onto his fork to take a bite, “The boyfriend thing?”

Sebastian swallows, his green eyes settling on Blaine with a gentle smirk, “Oh I don’t think he bought it. Better keep up pretenses of our fake attachment until he’s convinced.”

Blaine laughs, the softest of pink blushes flushing over his cheeks, “Who said it’s fake?”

Sebastian grins and leans in to kiss him.

\--

“This isn’t even enjoyable anymore.”

“Stop pouting, this walk was a great idea—it’s beautiful out.”

Sebastian scrunches his very cold nose, “It’s twenty degrees and snowing.”

Blaine huffs and adjusts the beanie on his head with big mitted gloves, barely able to hold his coffee cup in his other hand as they stroll in the courtyard on Dalton’s grounds. “Oh come on, it’s not even the snow in a storm, it’s big white fluffy flakes.”

“You’re the same person that tries to defend bumble bees, aren’t you?”

Blaine grins up at him, “The chubby ones that are always covered in pollen? Uh, _yes,_ they’re adorable. And they don’t sting.”

Sebastian rolls his eyes but he’s smiling, “Why am I not even surprised?”

“We need to buy you a beanie. The scarf is nice but you don’t have a hat on…that’s why you’re miserable.”

Sebastian’s about to chime in that he can’t feel the back of his legs _or_ his feet and that’s why he’s miserable but then Blaine continues on,

“You know, instead of complaining, you could be doing something more productive.” He stops, turning to face Sebastian, “Like trying to keep me warm.”

Sebastian smiles a little, wrapping his arms around Blaine’s waist as he leans down and closer to him. “And that benefits me _how,_ exactly?”

Although it’s practically impossible to deny Blaine anything, especially right now—he looks utterly beautiful with this white background, snowflakes settling on his shoulders, beanie and the curls that are sticking out of the fabric. His nose and cheeks are a gentle red, and yet, he doesn’t look miserable at all—completely embracing the weather around them.

Sebastian finds himself keeping that smile, something incredibly _fond_ heating him up from the inside.

Blaine presses himself up on his toes, eskimo kissing their noses for a moment. “Let me show you.” And kisses him, slow and steady, the heat of their intimate movement combatting the cold. After all this time, he thought he never needed anyone.

But Sebastian was wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much to everyone who gave this fic a chance! who left kind words of encouragement, reviews and left kudos. it means a lot! i'm over at blainesebastian on tumblr if you'd like to say hi :)

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading :)


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